When You Sleep
by WinryWeiss
Summary: Observing the sleeping face of the one you care about leads to various contemplations and musing about how unpredictable fate could be. Tintin/Haddock fluff. NO slash, just friendship.
1. Archibald's side

**When you sleep, your face is the priceless gift**

Archibald watched over sleeping Tintin with soft smile.

Another case closed, another grateful police force, another article with banner headline on first page. And new potential enemies and few new bruises as well. Honestly, that boy is unbelievable. Unstoppable. Captain sniggered, and clasped his arm around Tintin more firmly. They decided to take train instead of plane, and his boy fell asleep as soon as they left station, lulled by rhythmical bumping of train, Snowy already slumbering on his lap. Tintin was leaning on him, with his head laid on Captain's shoulder. Archibald could lay him down on seat, since they were alone in compartment, but … such a movement might wake the boy. Instead, Captain shifted carefully, to make himself as comfortable pillow as possible. Tintin deserved rest.

Archibald all but melted when the Angel sleeping in his arms mumbled from sleep and pressed himself further in his embrace, hand gripping Captain's sweater. Snowy yawned, shoot an annoyed glance at Tintin and laid himself more cozily, this time on Archibald's lap. Captain swallowed a laugh. He could _swear_ that this dog did not like him at all when they firstly met. He looked from window and watched the autumnally melancholic landscape whizzing along for good amount of time in comfortable silence, listening to soft, calm and _regular_ breathing of two being, he love more than anything in the world.

They were heading back to home. To **their** home.

And that was something Archibald still couldn't believe. He was afraid to, because it was too wonderful to be truth.

Before he met Tintin, there was no place he would call home. He lived here and there, more of sleeping over than actually staying. He departed to sea and to that bittersweet forgiveness of bottle. Without hope, without love, without future.

And then, suddenly and without any warning, that boy came crashing through his porthole, knocking him over and turning his whole world upside down. Dragging him across half of the globe (and the second half will _surely_ come) and into situations, which simply would **not** happen to anybody else. For example: being a ritual sacrifice of Incas. Tintin saved him countless of times and helped him acquire back family heritage and lost pride, without actually wanting anything in return. That boy is amazing, bold and brave. He thrown himself into fire to save two thugs who wanted to kill them before, he jumped out of airplane to sinking meteorite without second thoughts, he unravels mysteries and chases villains to the end of the world and even beyond if he have to. He has been shot, beaten up, kidnapped, whacked on head, sentenced to death (_three times!_), yet he always manages to escape on the very last moment using only his wits and bits and pieces he find along the way. He ends up in gunfight at least once a month, and escapes from hospital _every time_, whether it is just a mild case of flu or nearly fatal injury. But he is unable to hold his own liquor. (He is dead-drunk after single glass of beer and extremely friendly when tipsy.) Captain chuckled. Tintin is not ashamed of him and his clumsiness and gruff manners, he even manages to withstand his quick temper with a smile. And when he calls for help, which happens exceptionally rarely, he calls him. **Him**, of all the people!

Archibald tries to be better man, solely for the approving look of those green eyes, he tries to give up alcohol completely, he tries so much it _hurt_, yet … He had failed, more than once. But every time, there was understanding and forgiveness, those surprisingly strong arms helped him up again and steered him towards right direction.

Train stopped with a jolt and Tintin woke up. Withdrawing himself slightly he looked around sleepily, hand still clutched on Captain's sweater.

"Shush, boy." Archibald stroked Tintin tenderly. "Sleep."

"But …"

"I'll wake ya when we arrive."

"Hnn." The ginger snuggled back and within seconds he was again in the realm of dreams.

Captain shut his eyes tightly. He had to, or else he would start crying, tears of joy were prickling insistently in his eyes. Oh, how he hated when he got into such a sentimental mood, but …

Tintin was gift. Priceless gift.


	2. Tintin's side

**When you sleep, your face is the greatest mystery**

Tintin observed sleeping Archibald with soft smile.

There are 28 rooms in Marlinspike hall, out of this number six are bedrooms, and his friend had to fall asleep here, in main study. Crammed on sofa near warm fireplace, with book still firmly in hand and Snowy curled up into ball on his stomach. How, for Heaven's sake, did he get his one hundred and eighty centimeters of height into one hundred and fifty centimeters long sofa, that Tintin simply couldn't conceive.

The ginger added few logs to fire and looked from window. December just started, yet Marlinspike was already cut off due to snowdrifts. Tintin smiled. This weekend's supply shopping would be an adventure. Assuming they will be able to leave the house.

He looked at Captain again and his smile widened. He never believed that he will ever find such a great friend. Someone who would accept him as he is, not wanting to change him at all, who would love him wholeheartedly. And yet he did, knocking this great man over and threatening him with gun at their first meeting.

Captain snored loudly and Tintin chuckled at the way how Snowy ascend and descend with every breath Archibald took. He couldn't wake them, no, that would be cruel. The ginger decided to get them duvet instead.

As he headed to his bedroom, he still thought about Captain. Tintin was not sure when exactly did the Question popped up in his mind for first time. But he was certain that it is that kind of question, which simply does not evaporate. The greatest mystery of whole Universe. Something which comes to mind of anybody who knows Captain Archibald Haddock. (Or Thompson and Thomson, to be precise.)

_How clumsy a man possibly could be?_

Let's see. Since they met, his older friend was whacked with wooden plank (and Tintin was the one who did it), got hit with a magnificent bone, knocked heavy sign plate down on his head, and once, he got so entangled in own story that he thrown chandelier on himself. He survived a plane crash, and Tintin's _not so exactly safe_ way of driving. He nearly burned to death in the middle of vast sea, and afterwards almost died of thirst in Sahara, yet drove off Berbers _while knocking himself out with own gun_. Tintin giggled at that reminiscence. Captain got buried under avalanche, which he started. He was arrested and even assaulted by police, kidnapped and interrogated, or better say tortured. Thompson and Thomson accused him of murder, to their own bad luck. They treat him with respect bordering on fear ever since. He bonged himself to news column, ended inside the clothes-brusher machine and few times singed his fingers. He was attacked by shark, bear, tapir, alligator and coconuts. (No, they didn't just fell on his head, it was well planned revenge.) He slipped on spaghetti, fell from horse, stairs, steep crag and Tintin once pushed him out off runaway train, yet he miraculously never broke anything. He was despised, bitten and spitted by llamas. He caused a ruckus in theatre wearing a papier-mâché bull's head. And he got hit by firework rocket, for Great Snakes! He regularly brings himself close to heart attack thanks to Calculus' bad hearing, and due to the fact that he sometimes acts, _involuntary_, as guinea pig for professor. Not to mention his most unfortunate tendencies to trip over anything thinkable (and, to be honest, even the unthinkable) and to accidentally smack people in near proximity, which gets him into all sorts of other troubles. And Tintin was sure this list will grow. He snickered. Sometimes, there was suspicion that Captain is merely pretending that ineptitude, and sometimes … sometimes, there was that terrible heart-shattering feeling, that dreadful bottomless fear, fear he might loose Captain, his Captain, forever.

He would never let such thing happen, **he would not**.

The ginger seized his spare duvet and returned to study. Neither Captain nor Snowy moved the slightest. Tintin gently arranged his duvet on them, glad that his (Or theirs already?) dog laid his head above Captain's heart, so he could cover them both.

Tintin seated himself on the rug next to sofa, just for a little while, to watch over them. His own heart was _aching_ with happiness.


End file.
